


Our special song

by frutonyanya



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frutonyanya/pseuds/frutonyanya
Summary: Since childhood, Bart had sworn that he would never fall in love. (reupload)
Relationships: Bart Simpson/Milhouse Van Houten, hinted Lisa/Nelson
Kudos: 45





	Our special song

**Author's Note:**

> I finally edited this work! Hopefully there is less mistakes in it now:)

Ever since childhood, Bart had always sworn that he would never fall in love. This confusing, strange feeling has led Bart to profound misunderstanding over and over again. And what is love anyway? Girl stuff, that's all. In his understanding, love was limited to his mother's kisses on the forehead, hot chocolate before bed and silly pink valentines. To be fair, he didn't want to go out of this comfort zone. 'That' love, so distant for him, seemed like a fairy tale without a happy ending to Bart. He often noticed how his parents didn't talk to each other for days, and sincerely didn't understand how each time after an argumemt they jumped into each other's arms in tender embraces. When that happened, Homer always gave Marge a bouqet of roses from a gas station, which smelled both flowery and bitter, and she sprinkled him with kisses in return. Bart wondered if this is what's called love.

At ten, he realized that the world was unfair. Love existed, and not only on the pages of books and TV screens. It was destined by fate, and even the most skeptic person would eventually have to face it. Bart knew about a certain bond between people that united them forever. He wasn't completely sure how people find their loved ones, until one day he saw his father standing outside with an old boombox in his hands. "I love you Marge!" he yelled, grinning sheepishly, and the woman, running down the stairs, hugged him, murmuring: "Our special song...". That night, while she was wishing Bart sweet dreams, she whispered to him: "Someday, honey, you will also find your song. You'll immediately know that it is the one, and you'll share it with your loved one. It may take time, but trust me, it's worth it. " Bart stared at her in disbelief as she closed the door.

Middle school wasn't much different from the Elementary. It was just as grey, full of endless classrooms and randomly encountered faces in the hallways. In these long, branching corridors, there wasn't a person who would wander through them without headphones. Everyone listened to music, dreaming of finally bumping into their soulmate. Some listened to rock, some indie, others - pop. All of them were waiting for the cherished lyrics to appear on their bodies, restlessly flipping through the songs. Teachers smiled indulgently as they watched the commotion. Bart only grew gloomy.

When he was fifteen, on one autumn day, Lisa quietly confessed to him that her mark had appeared. Bart's heart ached. He was surprisingly relieved when he saw the lyrics of a rock ballad hastily written on his sister's fragile shoulder. 'Nelson', he thought. Maybe jazz wasn't that bad.

However, Milhouse stopped listening jazz a long time ago. High school mercilessly separated him and Bart, and their already infrequent encounters in the hallways and cafeteria became less and less regular until they stopped altogether. As time passed, rumors about a new couple began to spread around the school. Milhouse and Janey. After hearing about this, Bart fiercely smashed the window in the principal's office. When he was punished with an essay, he didn't write a single word.

Beer from Homer's stash was disgustingly bitter and warm, just like tears. Bart started smoking in bathroom stalls, skipping lessons and irritating teachers. Only Lisa did not take her intent, understanding gaze off him. His sister's silence really angered Bart. It only made the bundle of tangled feelings in his soul even heavier.

Bart had two favorite colors, so opposite and similar at the same time. Red and blue. Red, like those stupid valentines. Blue, like the hair of his old best friend. Lately, Bart unbearably wanted to bury his fingers in them. Milhouse's hair were soft and smelled so sweet, almost like apples. Bart liked his blush. It wasn't a soft shade of pink like many others had. It was scarlet and covered his entire face, from nose to ears. It looked so ridiculous, as did every feature of him. Bart found it so damn attractive.

Bart missed his contagious laugh, his unbearably stupid jokes. He missed every feature of his, and it drove him crazy. First of all, because he did not want to believe in love. He didn't want to accept that this was that very feeling, the existence of which he denied as long as he remembered himself. It was insanely wrong. But the worst thing was that for several months he had been thoroughly hiding the lyrics written on his forearm. He didn't hide them from strangers, he hid them from himself.

Lisa knew that the lyrics on her brother's forearm had been there since early high school, just when she acknowledged her feelings towards Nelson. She accidentally noticed them when she was putting her drunk brother to bed. That fall, she unwillingly became a witness of Bart's self-destructive behavior, and despite their frequent fights and bickering, she was deeply wounded by the condition of one of her closest people. 

Lisa understood that he might not forgive her, but that did not stop her.

Letters became old fashioned a long time ago, so when Milhouse got one, he was puzzled. He was even more surprised by the absence of the addressee on the envelope. Inside was a CD with a note written on its surface, from which the boy's heart flinched. After a lengthy search for a player, he quickly inserted a record into it.

Lisa couldn't help but smile when she heard a knock at the door. Two short knocks and three long ones, just like the good old days. "He's upstairs," she said softly, hugging the guest.

Without any warning, he burst into the room like a whirlwind. Bart, reluctantly turning his head, froze in place.

These words. Words that he wrote on a CD with a song, their song. Words that he had been longing to hear for so long.

"I really love you, but I'm not good with words, so here you go", - with these words the visitor made a couple of careful steps and grasped the blond's hands, gently leaving a transparent kiss on his lips, which was immediately returned.

The scent of apples was filling the air.


End file.
